Rabid (1977): Cronenberg’s Feverish Frenzy of Flesh and Frenzy
In the chill of a Canadian winter, one woman’s hidden orifice unleashes a plague of primal rage—David Cronenberg’s Rabid remains a festering wound in the heart of 1970s body horror.
David Cronenberg’s Rabid bursts onto screens in 1977 as a visceral shock to the system, blending gritty exploitation thrills with a prescient nightmare of unchecked medical ambition. This low-budget Canadian chiller follows a young woman’s grotesque transformation after a catastrophic accident, turning her into ground zero for a rabies-like epidemic that ravages Montreal. Far from mere gorefest, Rabid probes the fragility of the human form, foreshadowing Cronenberg’s obsessions with mutation and invasion that would define his career.
- Cronenberg masterfully employs practical effects to depict the film’s central abomination—a phallic proboscis emerging from an armpit—establishing body horror as a visceral art form.
- Marilyn Chambers delivers a haunting performance as the tragic Rose, bridging adult film notoriety with mainstream terror and amplifying the film’s taboo allure.
- Rabid’s legacy endures in its influence on zombie subgenres and viral outbreak narratives, cementing its place in retro horror collecting as a must-own VHS relic.
The Crash That Birthes a Monster
Rabid opens with a serene motorcycle trek through snowy Quebec countryside, shattered by a horrific pile-up involving a tanker truck. Rose, played by Marilyn Chambers, emerges as the sole survivor requiring radical intervention at the remote Keloid Clinic. Dr. Keloid and his team pioneer a revolutionary morphogenetic skin graft, harvesting flesh from cadavers to rebuild her ravaged body. This procedure, meant to herald a medical miracle, instead awakens something primal within her—a ravenous appendage concealed in her armpit that unfurls like a venomous serpent to inject a paralytic toxin mimicking rabies.
The film’s narrative accelerates as Rose escapes the clinic, hitchhiking into Montreal where her unwitting feedings spark chaos. Victims convulse into frothing maniacs, their humanity stripped away in seconds, leading to riots, shootings, and martial law. Cronenberg films these outbreaks with raw urgency, using handheld cameras to capture the pandemonium in public spaces, from bustling streets to abandoned subways. The escalating infection mirrors real-world fears of contagion, amplified by the era’s post-Watergate paranoia about institutional failures.
Key to the terror is Rose’s unknowing predation; she experiences blackouts, waking amid carnage with no memory of her nocturnal hunts. This dissociative horror humanises her plight, positioning Rabid not as a slasher but a tragedy of bodily betrayal. Cronenberg draws from rabies mythology—its hydrophobia, aggression, and near-100% fatality—infusing scientific plausibility into the supernatural. The clinic’s isolation evokes classic mad scientist tropes, yet grounds them in 1970s bioethics debates over experimental transplants.
Flesh Factory: Practical Effects That Pulsate
Cronenberg’s collaboration with effects wizard Joe Blasco produces Rabid’s centrepiece: the axillary proboscis, a latex phallus veined and glistening, thrusting forth with grotesque autonomy. Crafted from layered prosthetics and air bladders, it injects via needle-like syringe, foaming saliva as it retracts. These effects, achieved on a shoestring budget of around $500,000 CAD, rival Hollywood splatter, proving practical wizardry’s power over early CGI pretenders.
Transformation scenes linger on sutured wounds splitting open, pus oozing from regenerating tissue—a symphony of squelches and rips courtesy of foley artists. Cronenberg favours close-ups on glistening orifices, the armpit becoming a forbidden vagina dentata, symbolising sexual dread amid the sexual revolution’s backlash. Makeup tests involved live pigs’ intestines for texture, lending authenticity that still turns stomachs on Blu-ray restorations.
The infected hordes receive minimal prosthetics—foam latex foam at the mouth, blood-rimmed eyes—allowing hordes of extras to swarm believably. Cronenberg’s static shots of rampaging crowds prefigure 28 Days Later, influencing fast-zombie mechanics. Sound design amplifies the visceral: guttural snarls layered over urban din, heartbeat thumps underscoring Rose’s pangs. This auditory assault immerses viewers in the flesh’s rebellion.
Viral Visions: Themes of Invasion and Identity
At its core, Rabid dissects the body as battleground, where medical hubris invites parasitic takeover. The morphogenetic graft blurs self and other, echoing 1970s anxieties over organ transplants and identity loss. Rose embodies Cronenberg’s recurring motif of the new flesh, her mutation a metaphor for pubescent turmoil or venereal disease in an age of free love’s fallout.
Sexuality permeates the horror; the proboscis as erect phallus rapes victims into zombiedom, subverting pornographic tropes Chambers knew intimately. Cronenberg subverts exploitation by denying eroticism—the orifice repulses, its pleasure one-sided and fatal. Consumerism creeps in via branded chaos: infected loot luxury stores, equating viral spread with capitalist excess.
Montreal’s bilingual divide adds subtext; English-speaking Rose disrupts Francophone society, hinting at cultural invasion amid Quebec separatism. Cronenberg, a Toronto Jew, navigates Canadian identity through apocalypse, his outsiders always reshaping the centre. Rabid critiques authority: police execute infected on sight, quarantines fail spectacularly, foreshadowing AIDS-era isolations.
Production Perils in the Great White North
Filmed guerrilla-style across Montreal in winter 1976, Rabid battled blizzards and budget overruns. Cronenberg cast Chambers after her Behind the Green Door fame, leveraging her notoriety for distribution via adult theatres before mainstream pickup. Financing from Quebec’s tax shelters enabled independence, though clashes with producers over gore levels nearly derailed shoots.
Locations lent authenticity: real clinics for surgery scenes, downtown for riots using local militia as extras. Chambers endured hours in prosthetics, her commitment bridging adult and horror worlds. Cronenberg edited on the fly, tightening 110-minute cuts to 107 for pace. Marketing emphasised Chambers’ crossover, posters screaming “She wants you!” amid blood splatter.
Release faced censorship skirmishes; Ontario banned it initially, fuelling underground buzz. Box office recouped costs tenfold in North America, spawning international legs. Cronenberg’s refusal of MPAA cuts preserved vision, cementing his cult status among midnight movie crowds.
Legacy of the Latent Plague
Rabid primed Cronenberg’s ascent, bridging Shivers‘ parasitism to Videodrome‘s media viruses. Its fast-rabies zombies inspired Return of the Living Dead and World War Z, while body orifices echoed in Society and From Beyond. Collector’s appeal soars: original posters fetch thousands, Vinegar Syndrome’s 4K UHD restores faded prints for neon glow.
In retro culture, Rabid embodies 1970s grindhouse grit, beloved at festivals like Fantasia. Modern revivals highlight prescience amid pandemics, its quarantined city hauntingly familiar. Fan theories posit Rose’s graft absorbing clinic victims’ psyches, deepening tragedy. Remakes whispers persist, though purists decry tampering with perfection.
Cronenberg revisited themes in Crimes of the Future (2022), nodding to Rabid’s grafts. VHS tape hunts thrive on eBay, bootlegs preserving era’s grainy charm. Rabid endures as gateway drug to Cronenbergia, its fleshly horrors aging like fine wine—or festering sore.
Director/Creator in the Spotlight
David Cronenberg, born March 15, 1943, in Toronto to Jewish parents—a novelist mother and fur salesman father—grew up immersed in literature and science fiction. Fascinated by biology and William S. Burroughs, he studied physics and literature at the University of Toronto, pivoting to film via shorts. His experimental phase birthed Transfer (1966), a silent dialogue-free piece on telepathy; From the Drain (1967), psychedelic insect invasion; Stereo (1969), mockumentary on sensory deprivation cults; and Crimes of the Future (1970), dystopian tale of cosmetics-induced mutations post-flu pandemic.
Feature debut Shivers (1975, aka They Came from Within) unleashed aphrodisiac parasites on a high-rise, grossing millions despite controversy. Rabid (1977) refined visceral intimacy. Fast Company (1979) detoured to drag racing drama. Breakthroughs followed: Scanners (1981) with its skull-exploding headshot; Videodrome (1983), TV signals mutating flesh; The Dead Zone (1983), Stephen King adaptation; The Fly (1986), Oscar-winning Brundlefly metamorphosis starring Jeff Goldblum.
Dead Ringers (1988) explored twin gynaecologists’ descent via custom tools; Naked Lunch (1991) Burroughs hallucination; M. Butterfly (1993) gender espionage drama. Hollywood beckoned with Crash (1996), car-wreck fetishism Palme d’Or winner; eXistenZ (1999) virtual reality bioports; Spider (2002) psychological unraveling. Later works: A History of Violence (2005), vigilante thriller Oscar-noms for Viggo Mortensen; Eastern Promises (2007), Russian mob tattoos; A Dangerous Method (2011) Freud-Jung psychodrama; Cosmopolis (2012) limo-bound finance satire; Maps to the Stars (2014) Hollywood curses.
Recent: Crimes of the Future (2022), performance art surgery in polluted future. Influences span Burroughs, J.G. Ballard, Freud; style emphasises slow-build unease, practical effects, philosophical monologues. Awards: Companion Order of Canada, Berlin Jury Prize. Cronenberg champions indie ethos, producing early Atom Egoyan, consulting on The Brood. Personal life: three children, including daughter Cassandra a filmmaker; vegetarian, chess aficionado. His canon dissects technology’s fleshy merger, body as ultimate canvas.
Actor/Character in the Spotlight
Marilyn Chambers, born Marilyn Ann Briggs on April 22, 1952, in Providence, Rhode Island, rose from cheerleader and model to porn iconoclast. Discovered modelling Ivory Snow soap—ironically as wholesome housewife—she exploded in 1972’s Behind the Green Door, Mitchell Brothers’ interracial epic grossing millions, earning AFAA Hall of Fame. Follow-ups: The Resurrection of Eve (1973), So Fine (1973) rabbit vibrator intro; Insatiable (1980) aristocrat’s odyssey.
Mainstream crossover beckoned: Broadway’s Hair, bit in Assault on Paradise (1971). Rabid (1977) marked horror pivot, her innocent Rose masking carnal curse, earning cult praise despite snickers. Post-Rabid: Sweater Girls (1978) beach comedy; Up ‘n’ Coming (1983); returned to porn with Still Insatiable (1984), Private Screenings (1985). Directed Heatwave (2022 documentary) on Jim Mitchell.
1980s TV: Alf guest, Married with Children. Later adult: Dark Angels series (2007-2009). Awards: AVN Performer of Year nom, XRCO Hall of Fame. Personal: married director Chuck Traynor amid abuse claims (denied), later William Archer (motorcycle deaths), Randy Malcom. Struggled addiction, found stability in 2000s. Died April 18, 2008, age 56, aneurysm Hartford home.
Chambers symbolised 1970s sexual liberation’s double-edge, her Rabid role reclaiming agency in horror. Fan favourite at retrospectives, memorabilia—signed posters, soap boxes—coveted. Her arc from smut to scream queen inspires cross-genre trailblazers like Traci Lords, Sasha Grey.
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Bibliography
Beard, W. (2006) The Artist as Monster: David Cronenberg Interviews. University of Toronto Press.
Cronenberg, D. (1997) Cronenberg on Cronenberg: Interviews and Essays. Faber & Faber.
Grant, M. (2000) The Modern Cinema of David Cronenberg. Wallflower Press.
Handling, P. (1983) The Shape of Rage: The Films of David Cronenberg. General Publishing.
Newman, K. (1988) Nightmare Movies: A Critical Guide to Contemporary Horror. Harmony Books.
Stefanon, M. (2015) Marilyn Chambers: An Unauthorized Biography. BearManor Media.
Available at: Various archives including Fangoria Magazine issues 1978-1980 and Cinémathèque Québecoise collections [Accessed 15 October 2023].
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